THE WAYS OF THE WORLD.

Temuka Leader, Issue 1773, 7 August 1888, Page 2

THE WAYS OF THE WORLD.

From hfer cradle to her grave, and sometimes afterwards, woman is, an enigma, a riddle, a—a—a, well, a something to swear by. When you fall in love with her it is her business to let you see she does not care a pin’s head for you. She is not going to be easily caught, she must be woohd and won. Then you rack, and bother, and disturb your brains (if you have any, lovers seldom have) to know what she means by this, and thafc, and the other thing—to understand her, in fact, but you can’t do it. All your scheming and your studying is in vain ; her object is to baffle you, and she. does it. At last, when reduced to idiotcy by men'al worry, you rush in upon her looking in the last stages of despair, and you throw yourself upon your knees, and threaten to commit suicide if she does not say “ Yes,” you cannot still understand her. You cannot understand the extraordinary rapidity with which she who was frigidly cold and indifferent two minutes before now melts into a 1 being of infinite sweetness, gentleness, and affection. She next becomes a trouble to. her friends. When'shortly afterwards a certain incident takes place, and she sends around cards bearing the names of Mr and Mrs Jones, Brown, or Eobiuson, as the case may be, her friends are thunderstruck. “ Who tho deuce is Mrs Jones, anyhow,” they want to know. Supposing she uext writes to a person at a distance signing the letter M. A.'" Jones, fancy the consternation of him who receives it. He does know Mary Anne Jones from a black crow, and he wants to reply, but does not know whether to address the letter M. A. Jones, Esq., or Mr M. A. Jones, or Mrs M. a. Jones, or Miss M. A. Jones. lam convinced many are raving maniacs in lunatic asylums through the strain put upon their mental faculties by cases like this. Thus there is no making out even a woman’s name, as shown by a case which not long ago occupied the attention of the Supreme Court of England. Two of the moat astute of England’s judges have had to admit themselves complete incapables in dealing with a case involving a woman’s name. It happened in this way. An antiquated unit of the feminine species departed this life (observe, even in death woman is a mystery), leaving a largo fortune to “ her cousin, Harriet Cloak.” She had a cousin of . that name, but she evidently did not like the name, and made a fool of herself by changing it to that of the name of a husband whom she had accumulated. The will was disputed on the ground that her name was not Harriet Cloak, but the Judge held she was entitled to the legacy. Now the deceased woman had a masculine cousin whose name was Cloak, and he, thinking it was not good for man to be alone, took uuto himself a wife whose name was Harriet, and she, of course, became Harriet Cloak.. This lady brought the case before another Court, and the second judge decided she was the only lady known by the distinguishing cognomen" of Harriet Cloak in that part of the world, and awarded her the prize. The decision has been appealed against, and if some of those judges don’t commit suicide before they can satisfactorily decide the ease I am a Dutchman. Thus, dead or alive, woman cannot be understood. Her first appearance in public when she was moulded out of poor old Adam’s rib was a mystery ; the way she fooled him shortly afterwards is a mystery, and the way she has been fooling his sons ever since is a dark impenetrable mystery that will never be fathomed. But great an enigma as she is, man cannot hold a candle to her in point of gentleness, kindness, sweetness, and affectionateness. 1 have been told man was nude a little lower than the angels, and my opinion is that woman is the “little” which forms the connecting link between man and the angels. Woman is sometimes called an angel, and I think

this is not going too far, because the difference between a genuine woman and an angel must be so small that ■. reat admirers of the ladies might be pardoned for not being able to see it.

I hasten to correct an error I made the other day. Commenting on the tact that Mr Rhodes’s name never occurs in the reports of Parliament, I said I was afraid he had so much weight in the House that he had sunk down through the floor of it, but I now find I wa» altogether wrong. Mr Rhodes turned up punctually when the business for which he went into Parliament came on for discussion. The other evening it was proposed to give squatters a 21 years’ lease of their runs, without reserving to the Crown the right to resume possession by giving 12 months’ notice as at present. Mr Turnbull moved to give them only a lease for seven years, and, my word, wasn’t Mr Rhodes about then. You may say he was, and fought like a man to give the squatters the long lease, lie was not elected to reduce the tea tax, and did not bother his brains about it. He was there to look after the interests of the squatters, and he did it, and more power to him. Bravissima, Mr Rhodes ! You always said you were no squatter, that you had no interest in squatters, that it was your brother who was the squatter, and that you managed your brother’s business. Of course you do manage your brother’s business inside of Parliament as well as out of it, and it is very much to your credit that you are capable of such nice, brotherly feeling. Look after the squatters, my friend, and let the poor sweat and groan under their load of taxation. Neither you nor any one else need bother about the poor man’s interest, because he does not look after it himself. God helps those who help themselves, and as the poor do not help themselves t hey cannot blame others for not helping them.

The election of Mr John Miles Verrall for Ashley brought out the bad temper of bis opponents. The very moment the result of the poll was made known Mr Verrall, with commendable energy, proceeded to Wellington, but before going he commissioned the Eev. Mr Wyatt to thank the electors on bis behalf at the declaration of the poll. Mr Wyatt did so in very neat terms, and then came Mr Blunders, who “ blatherskited ” a great deal about the brotherly affection he carried away with him under his ribs for the other defeated candidate, Mr Dixon, but “ poor Mr Verrall, he pitied him.” Fancy the assurance of this political pariah, who has now been rejected by almost every constituency in Canterbury, pitying the man who was then voting against the Otago Central railway in Parliament? Would it not have been more appropriate to pity Mr Saunders iu being so silly as not to see that he is a political wreck, left to break up into smithereens on the skores of obscurity. Alas, poor Saunders. Weall shall reach second childhood if we live for it, so 1 ought not to be bard on you, although I cannot shed tears over your defeat. Marmauduke Dixon came next. He, too, “ beslabbered ” Mr Saunders in return, and then pitied the elected Mr Verrall. Then he raved about the National Bank, and said it would destroy confidence in the colony. If he had been elected he would have restored confidence in the colony. What a yahoo ! Fancy his presumption. His presence in Parliammt would restore confidence in the colony. Oh 1 George, if we only knew what we have lost, but evidently the Ashley electors would not buy him at his own price, because he was last on the list Ido not know Mr Dixon; I never heard of him before, but in one of bis speeches he said he had been a sailor, and that he had only received a poor education The Eev. Mr Wyatt, in nominating Mr Verrall, said' that Mr Verrall was a cultured, highly educated gentleman, who always used the letter H in its proper place. Mr Dixon afterwards evidently took this to refer to himself, for he complained of the Eev. Mr Wyatt having cast reflections on him, and the rev. gentleman said the present company was always excepted. From these trifles I conclude that Mr Dixon is like Butfcrwick in “ Our Boys,” he hasn’t an Hto his name. And this is the sort of a man who presumes to say he would restore confidence in the colony, and pities a highly educated, cultured gentleman of very ancient lineage—a man who, as a writer of the English language, has few superiors in the House! What a grand specimen of Colonial cheek. Gnu O’Lanus, K.C.M.G,